Hamishe
by Laliel
Summary: The Sands of Time survive even when others do not. Even so, it and the dagger have all but been lost to antiquity. Or have they? MOVIE-VERSE
1. Down The Rabbit Hole

**HAMISHE**

**Rating: T**

Synopsis: _The Sands of Time survive even when others do not. Even so, it and the dagger have all but been lost to antiquity. Or have they?_

Pairings: Dastan/Tamina, and perhaps others.

***Five Years From Now***

If it wasn't the heat, it was the bugs, if it wasn't that, it was the gritty sand. There was always something that made digging in the ground seem so stupid. That was, until an amazing discovery was made.

Wren Anderson wiped a hand across her forehead, leaving behind a smear of dirt as she did so. There was no more digging to do, but crawling through the tiny tunnel to reach the recently uncovered anti-chamber to a what looked like a tomb made her look like a mole. She stopped as her small flashlight sputtered, momentarily plunging her into darkness. She stayed frozen for a long moment before something hard smacked into her rear. "Owww!"

Recognizing the voice, she managed to get hers to work. "Tesla, my flashlight went out." There was a pregnant pause behind her. "For the love of Plato, Wren! Didn't you pack extra batteries?" Wren felt the fear grip her throat tightly and she was barely able to choke out an answer. "No." There was a rustling noise and a hand managed to wedge its way between her body and the rough wall of the tunnel. "Here, take my spares. And get moving before my knees adhere to this floor, will you?"

Wren somehow managed to grab the two cylinders, open her flashlight, and jam in the two new batteries as tears streamed from her eyes. As soon as the tunnel became lit she was able to breathe again, inching forward to be out of the close, dark nightmare. Finally, she was at the end, after another four minutes inside the unbearably small space. Tesla Androv popped out behind her, dirt in his dark curly hair and a non-sympathizing look on his face. "You know, you're the first archaeologist I've ever met who really has a fear of small spaces. What a stupid profession to choose."

Within the room, generators outside with wires that led through the tunnel lit small lamps carefully placed on holding stands. The chamber was cool, and yielded spectacular paintings of elaborate ceremonies and victorious battle heroes. Slabs of smoothed white stone formed the floor, walls, and ceilings. Two carved chests with deity carvings on their lids stood against one wall. Two massive marble statues stood, one on either side of an ancient looking door. One was of a man who held a sandglass in one hand, a sword in the other. The other was a woman who had in her outstretched hands a copper dagger. Both were wholly unique and were clearly not generic statues from a workshop. On their bases two inscriptions declared their roles. The man's read: Keeper of the Nation, beloved of his wife. The woman's read: Protector of the Dagger, forever bound to her husband.

The leader of the expedition, Jason Eivstead, stood by the door with Iranian archaeologist, JalAl Faisal Hussein. JalAl's excited voice seemed to echo in the chamber. "Imagine, finally opening a tomb containing the remains of a king and his queen, untouched by time or thieves." Jason gave him a firm thump on the back. "I told you we could do it, JalAl! Ever since we went to school together I knew we could." Wren was glad to see Jason so pleased, as the Norwegian occasionally had bad tempers and it was pleasant change to see him smile. Tesla stepped forward, pulling his camera out as he did so.

"Alright, let's get this show on the road. Open 'er up."

Wren stood beside Tesla as Jason and JalAl each took hold a rope that had been carefully screwed into the plain stone slab. The idea was to pull it carefully open from the right, then lay the slab onto the ground so it could be preserved. And that was exactly what happened, as both men expertly moved the slab from the unopened tomb onto the ground, Tesla taking pictures of the events with a firm hand. The air that came out of the dark room was stale. Jason inched one of the lights with its stand into the room.

It was dazzling. Blue, green, red, and gold painted adorned the walls. Carved white marble screens lined the walls. In the center, a huge sarcophagus with the carved visages of a man and a woman rested, and on all sides, in lacquered wooden chests, metal jars, and beaded baskets were offerings of incredible wealth. Against the wall opposite of the newly opened door, oddly enough, stood another door, closed as the first had been.

It took the next four hours to photograph the entire room and measure both the location of each object and the entire size of the room. Finally, though, Wren was given permission to look into some of the closed boxes. Moving aside a floral garland made from hammered gold and pearls, she gently opened an emerald inlaid chest. She then took a picture of the inside, her gloved hands holding her own camera steady. A beautiful diadem rested within. Jade leaves wreathed tiny garnet flowers. Gold vines snaked up and down the top part of the crown, while the circlet part was encrusted in carved pink pearls and more jade leaves. She closed the box and stood, her eyes captured by the staring faces on the sarcophagus.

"These people must have been loved."

Tesla also stood and looked.

"Either that, or they were just flamboyant. But you want to know the odd thing?"

Wren pulled her gloved off and tugged a few strands of her straight red hair back into the clips that had originally held them. "What?"

Tesla tapped a finger against the stone coffin

"They were buried _together_. They must have died at the same time."

Wren paused as she thought of this.

"Perhaps there was an illness or something."

Tesla shrugged at her words.

"In which case, you get to open the darn thing and die first from an ancient disease."

Wren rolled her eyes and turned to where Jason and JalAl stood beside the sealed door. They spoke excitedly together, an odd mixture of Iranian, Norwegian, and English. Eventually they finished their discussion, after which Jason proceeded to screw more ropes into the door. It took them twice as long to get this door open, partly because the stone and the doorframe had been coated with bitumen, which now formed an incredibly strong glue.

But sheer determination and brute strength finally had the door lying on the ground. Again, a light was placed into this new room, but, although huge compared to the burial chamber, there was nothing in it but what looked like a solidified pillar made from mud.

Jason and JalAl were not too disappointed, however, as they did have an untouched tomb at their fingertips. And the next day Wren found herself back in the burial chamber as the stone sarcophagus was moved. Within were the elaborately wrapped figures depicted in the statues. The man, who was taller, had been given a cloak of deep scarlet, a hammered gold death mask placed over his face. The woman had also been given a robe, although this one was in white, and her death mask was made from silver. Both wore diadems and had once fresh flower garlands wrapped about their necks. But to the curiosity of everyone, a small, hand-carved box rested between them.

The sarcophagus was photographed and the box removed before the lid was placed back over them. Jason and JalAl worked together to read the inscription that was on the lid. They deliberated for a time before arriving at a rough translation. Jason looked at Wren and Tesla. "It says something similar to: May God forbid the dagger from touching the time within the sands again." Wren gave a small chuckle. "Sounds like the king had a nip too many when he had that made." Tesla laughed before watching as JalAl opened the box. A heavily beaded cloth rested over an object, which Tesla photographed. Measurements were taken, and then JalAl opened the cloth.

Everyone gasped. An exquisite dagger with a glass hilt and gold bands lay before them. The blade had ancient writing on it that no-one could read and was still sharp. After many more pictures, Jason suggested they call it a day and lock up. JalAl agreed and decided to secure the outside camp. Jason followed suit, preparing to power down the generators.

Tesla started to pack up his camera while Wren fingered the dagger. It was truly beautiful, but the inscription on the box made no sense. She began to shine her flashlight into the corners of the rooms, checking that every cable was secure. Finally, she came to the empty room and was about to switch the tripod light off when her flashlight caught something in its beam. On the floor of the chamber, plain as day, directly in front of the odd pillar, were carved words. "Tesla, come see this!" A few grumbled sounds reached her before Tesla did, but his demeanor changed entirely when he saw the words on the floor. Wren looked at him. "Your Persian's better than mine. What does it say?"

Tesla furrowed his brow as he tried to form a cohesive sentence. "It says something about a sacred sand inside the pillar and…something or other to do with the flow of time." By the end of what he was saying Wren had dashed back into the burial chamber and now returned with the dagger in her hand. "Well, that sounds a bit like that box inscription. Perhaps the two go together. Tesla frowned at her. "Yeah, but the other one sounded like a warning. You know, like the do-not-go-beyond-this-point-or-you-will-be-blown-up kind?" Wren gave him an even deeper frown. "Do you know how stupid that sounded?"

Tesla backed up two steps. "All I'm saying is that you might want to leave well enough alone." Wren shrugged at him and stepped up to the pillar. The tip of the blade rested against the solid surface. Nothing happened. "Good, you looked danger in the eye and spit at it, now get away from there so we can leave." Tesla stepped forward and as he did so his foot got caught on an uneven portion of the floor. Slamming heavily into Wren, she lost her balance and shoved the dagger into the pillar, her fingers pressing hard against the hilt. With a sudden blinding flash and Tesla clinging to her leg, Wren found herself in a whirlwind as sand came pouring through the dagger's hilt. It was all she could do to hang onto it and she forced her eyes shut. After what seemed like an eternity, she felt Tesla move, pulling his way up by wrapping his arms around her waist. His hand clapped over hers and suddenly the sand was gone.

And was abruptly replaced by bright, natural sunlight. Wren opened her eyes to find Tesla's arms still wrapped around her waist, the dagger still in her hands, and an open air, clearly ancient bazaar being conducted around them.

Author's Note:

If you would like me to continue this story, please let me know in a review =).


	2. Of Spiteful Minds And Hurting Hearts

**HAMISHE**

**Rating: T**

Synopsis: _The Sands of Time survive even when others do not. Even so, it and the dagger have all but been lost to antiquity. Or have they?_

Pairings: Dastan/Tamina, and perhaps others.

Author's Note:

_Thank you all for the lovely reviews! Also, I have decided not to risk being tied to a desk O_o. So here we go…_

Wren shoved her free hand into Tesla's chest, sending him reeling as his hand released the dagger. He sprawled onto the ground, as stunned and dazed as she was. Suddenly a man wearing a brown that covered his head approached and spoke harshly to Tesla. He answered feebly in stuttering Persian, before seemingly pulling his wits together and yanking Wren into a small side-street. "Let go of me, you Serbian freak!" Tesla clapped a hand over her mouth and hissed into her ear. "I know you're not going to want to believe this, but we are in ancient Persia. That man was chastising me for the way you were dressed. And don't call me a Serbian freak again, or I'll leave you to fend for yourself."

Wren suddenly licked his hand, an action that caused Tesla to release her. "That is so gross, I can't believe you did that." Wren glared at him as he tried to wipe his hand off. "You expect me to believe that crappy story about this being ancient times? I probably nodded off in that chamber and this is all just a really psycho dream." She turned to him. "Which means that I can make you go pouf whenever I want to…" Tesla sighed at her antics. "That's not going to work, fairy godmother. Maybe this'll prove it." He reached forward and pinched her arm.

"Owe! That hurt, you…you…" Wren fell silent as it slowly sank in what that pinch meant. "We're not on a dig site anymore… are we." It was more of a statement of desperation than one of question. Tesla didn't bother answering. Wren aimed a kick at the wall beside her and felt the vibration of it wind throughout her entire body. In some ways, this cleared her head enough to start a blame game. "You! YOU're the reason we're stuck here!" Tesla pointed at the dagger. "And I suppose it was my fault you were standing there holding the dagger like an idiot!" Wren dropped the dagger and grabbed two fistfuls of Tesla's brown blazer in her hands. "It was your fault that you tripped. If you hadn't crashed into me, that stupid thing would have never gone into the pillar!" Tesla gave up the fight. "Look, it doesn't matter how the damn thing happened, the point is that we are here. And now it's our job to find a way back."

Wren released Tesla from her grip and sank slowly down to her knees. "This isn't Doctor Who, there is no police phone box that will just appear and whisk us back home." She began to shake, more from fear and anger than anything else. Tesla knelt beside her, picking up the dagger from where Wren had dropped it. "I know that. But perhaps this thing can get us back to our timeline." He then commenced pushing all over the hilt with his fingers, but nothing happened. Seeing this, Wren did something she tried to never do in public. She cried, deep heaving sobs. Tesla felt absolutely helpless at this point, and all he could muster was a semi-comforting shoulder pat. "Shhhh, we'll find a way back." Wren buried her face in her arms and shook her head. Strands of red hair that had escaped her ponytail in the sandstorm quivered with each sob. Her voice sounded far-off and watery. "You don't understand, Tesla," She lifted her head so he could see one gray-green eye. "My mother has cancer and I will never know if she pulls through chemo or not. I can live with being in some ancient city, but I don't think I can live without knowing Mom's fate."

Tesla hadn't known that about Wren. Mentally, he kicked himself. Sure, he had some things that would make him wonder, but nothing of that size. Looking down at her hunched form, he suddenly felt a weird sensation of protection for her. Wren wasn't his favorite person in the world, to be certain, but with them being in a foreign city that spoke a language she didn't understand well, he knew he would have to lead. He gave her one more pat before offering her his hand. "I think we could do worse. We know what brought us here and maybe if we find who made they'll know how to send us home. In the meantime, we should probably scrounge up some new clothes." Wren's fingers slid into his hand and he helped her back onto her feet. She gave him a feeble smile, her face still streaked with tears. "So where do we go from this blasted market?" He stared at her hair for a moment. "Well, we should probably find something that covers up that unusual shade of hair, for starters. We don't want to start any riots." He looked up at the small crack of sky that showed between mud-brick buildings. The sun was just rising. They might have time to blend in with the city before anyone asked awkward questions

Dastan rolled over onto his side. The frescoed and jewel encrusted walls shimmered at him as the sun's light reached through the open balcony's sheer curtains. The breeze was still cool from the night as it stirred the cloth and blew gently along the floor. The earliest part of the day had always been his favorite, new, clean, full of promise. Now his certainty in it had faltered. He turned to see Tamina's sleeping form lying on the bed, her ebony hair spread around her as though the night had left behind a part of itself on the pillows.

The breeze reached her, playing with the edges of the gold embroidered Egyptian cotton coverlet that draped over her. Each morning was the same. He sat up, rubbing his hand through his hair. Who was he fooling, other than himself? It was the same each night, too. He would bid her a good sleep before retiring to his pile of blankets and pillows heaped on the floor. This arrangement had been reached on their wedding night at his bidding, for having seen the fear in her eyes, he knew that nothing would return to how he remembered it. He shared her bedchamber only because he knew both her uncle and his father regularly had reports sent to them concerning their relationship. And also to dissipate any harem gossip.

He stood, his eyes unable to leave her. They had only been married for a month, but it might as well have been five years for all the progress he made with her. She had expressed interest in the dagger but not the story behind it. Placing the blankets and pillows upon the bed, so that no-one would discover his deceit, Dastan pulled open the ornately carved door and stepped outside. His now-common poor morning moods were usually helped after an hour of sword practice.

"You there!" Tesla tried to ignore the voice as he hustled Wren through the complex streets. More people were coming out of their homes, opening shops, and milling about. At least four other men had bawled him out due to Wren's shorts and t-shirt. And apart from that, the dagger's blade, though wrapped in his jacket's lining, still dug into his back. Perhaps transporting it by tucking it into his shirt and pants wasn't such a good idea. "Has God in His heaven sealed your ears!" Tesla's temper slipped. Whirling around to face the loud-mouthed breadmaker, he gave the man a look that would have made milk into yogurt in three seconds. "No, but yours might be ruined by my fists if you don't keep quiet." It was only after the words passed through his lips that he realized the man wasn't angry at him. Rather, he was holding out a loaf of bread to him. Keeping Wren tucked against his side so that her scant clothing would be as blocked from view as possible, he accepted the gift. "Sorry about that." The man smiled, a wide good-natured one. "That is understandable, what with your woman's attire. But today is a blessing from above and when I saw you, I felt that you were in need." Tesla felt incredibly relieved to have found one decent person in the city.

"My name is Tesla and this is my…uh…wife, Wren." The man stroked his rather opulent but well- trimmed beard. "Interesting names, must be from one of those outlying provinces." Tesla nodded obediently. "My name is Yusef, the best breadmaker under Persian rulers." Wren suddenly spoke in English. "Are we in trouble?" Tesla shook his head and indicated that she should be quiet. He turned back to Yusef. "My wife is from a foreign land and cannot speak Persian…yet." Yusef laughed, a hearty event. "Of course she is not, what with that color hair. But tell me, you are a freeman who is in need, yes?" Tesla nodded again, hoping he had the right translation of what freeman meant. "Well, you are here at the right time. There is the temple festival and celebration. The women's temple always gives away clothing during this time, so you can get something for your wife to wear. We can also find you some other clothes as well, and perhaps an occupation. Prospective overseers have hired many a good worker at this event." Tesla knew that crying from sheer thankfulness would be stupid, although he certainly wished he could. "Thank you so much, Yusef." He looked down the street, wondering which branching path was the correct one to take.

"You will never find it on your own, all newcomers become hopelessly lost without some advice from a citizen. So, I will take you. Here, Yusef Younger, look after the shop." A dark haired teenage boy poked his head out of the door. "Yes, father." Yusef clapped a hand on Tesla's shoulder as they began. "There is nothing like a good family, you will see this, too, once your wife bears children." Tesla certainly hoped that Wren's Persian was as bad as she had said.

The journey wound through a dizzying array of buildings. Unlike modern homes, both Wren and Tesla noticed that part of their journey led them onto the roofs of houses. Doors set in the ceilings were the access. But finally, on ground level, they came to another open-air market. Booths with everything from fresh fish and live fowl to mounds of figs and olives to lengths of woven cloth and baskets of spices spread out from a common well. The deep well was covered with a stone, a skin water bag on a pulley stand stood next to it. Stones lined the cistern that was currently full of water. It partially encircled the well, and just looking at the water inside it made Wren's throat tingle. It was getting warmer every minute and spending the day playing Bobbsey twins with Tesla had made her hot and irritable. Breaking away from him she said plainly: "I need a drink." She went immediately to the water and began to dip into it with her hand. "I wouldn't do that if I were you." She glared up at Tesla. "Why's that?" Then she noticed that he was struggling to hold in laughter. "What?" He rubbed a hand over his forehead before pointing behind her. "Don't blame me, but you just drank downstream from a camel."

Tamina awoke to the sun making a fire-path across the smooth marble floor. The whole room glinted as the light reflected off the bejeweled floral patterns in the wall. And as with each morning, Dastan was not there. He was never there.

Practically from her birth Tamina had been told of what would be expected of her. And the day of her wedding had been no different. Her Uncle, Emperor Aurung had arrived with his first wife, Empress Samin, and though not pleased by the Persians actions, he had approved of the union. Samin had helped Tamina to prepare in her chambers, explaining what would take place on her and Dastan's wedding night. It had been understandable, it was a necessary part of marriage, but Tamina had been amazed when Dastan had taken her hennaed hands in his own and said that he hoped for her love some day. And from that time, he had made his bed on the floor.

She was still confused by her strange husband and the way his eyes looked at her from time to time. He never did more than take her hand and walk with her, and did that seldom. Tamina stood, her feet brushing against the cool marble as she went to the door. A Chief Eunuch Guard stood beyond it, and when he saw her, he inclined his head to her. "Where is Prince Dastan on this morning?" The guard looked up at her, his red robes swaying as he did so. His face was darker, stronger, then men from Persia. A Nubian brought from Egypt, he had seen Tamina grow from an infant to an adult and was extremely loyal. "His Royal Highness said that he desired to train with the sword on this most noble day." Tamina smiled. Shabaka was as permanent a fixture in the harem as the lattice stone work. "Indeed. Mighty Shabaka, what is the wisdom for this day?" For Tamina each day began with a proverb. Shabaka swept his arm out, his hammered arm rings tinkling as he did so. "A broken hand works, but not a broken heart."

Tamina looked at him with wondering. "And how might I apply this to my life?" Shabaka laughed in a pleasant way. "That, O Princess, is for you to figure out." He then bowed to her, returning to his guard position. Tamina slowly walked the halls, considering the proverb. At least, she did until she came to the training court attached to the harem. Used in past generations as a training area for young sons of emperors, the only use it had now was by Dastan. The breeze blew red curtains embroidered in gold as she approached the balcony and peered around the edge of the fabric.

Dastan stood in the courtyard below, wearing the lower half of a white training costume. His curved Persian blade glistened in the sun as he practiced against an imaginary foe. He stepped forward, then back, twisting and turning, ducking and rolling. Stabbing his sword into the ground, he made a dash for the nearest wall and, using his own momentum, ran five steps up it and back-flipped to where he had placed his weapon. He looked at the sword but didn't pick it up. Rather, he gave it a shove with his hand. It quivered a moment before falling onto the ground. From where she stood, Tamina could see his face. Surrounded by dark hair strung with a few gold beads, he eyes had a defeated look in them. Tamina had never seen him this way before, for generally she went directly to her prayers at the temple. She wished now that she had. Withdrawing before he could take notice of her, she forced her body to follow her mind. Also seeing his strength, how the sun raced over his muscles, had nearly awakened something within her. Something Tamina feared greatly.

Tesla waited outside the Temple of the goddess Ahurani. The dome and pinnacles that graced the temple were made from pure white marble. A statue of Ahurani graced the courtyard, with the carved limestone figure standing several dozen feet high. In one hand she held a gold pot from which water fell into a basin below. Garlands of flowers had been placed about the statue's neck and waist, giving Ahurani the appearance of wearing a gown made of flowers. Women of all ages were here today, dipping water from her well and drinking it in hopes of what, Tesla wondered. More beauty, a child, less age? He turned away and stood in the shade of a well tended evergreen palm tree which was clearly a gift from Egypt. A stele erected next to it said as much in hieroglyphics. Yusef stood next to him, clearly enjoying the comings and goings of people. Tesla surreptitiously looked at his wristwatch. One hour. It was taking them one hour to dress Wren where it had taken him five minutes. He figured that since no screams, crashes, or cursing had come from the temple that she was still in good straights, but he was going to march in there and demand she be given back, if another hour passed.

Wren had never enjoyed the company of other women more than at this moment. The priestess acolytes, gowned in their scarlet colored, jasmine perfumed robes had all grown terribly excited when they had seen her hair. They had instantly taken her to the bath chamber where she had been scrubbed by an ancient woman with a kindly smile, had her hair washed, stroked dry with a cloth, and brushed through with oil. It now glistened like fire and two of the acolytes were busy weaving crystals into it. Others had taken away her modern clothes, only after she had rescued her wallet, and had come back with red silk embroidered white garments. One offered her an embroidered bag for her wallet while another began to henna her hands. It was at this point that Wren began to wonder if this was normal treatment for all the women who came during the festival. It was only after they had finished and placed a heavily beaded white veil on her head that Wren began to feel that she was trapped. White was a wedding color in modern times, she could only pray it wasn't the same in ancient Persia.

Tesla had five minutes left on his Timex when a group of priestesses alighted from the temple door and came to him. Practically dragging him back into the temple, he was suddenly awestruck by what must have been Wren. Her grey-green eyes had been lined with kohl and gold paint, the small amount of red hair he could see had been festooned with small white crystals. She wore white pantaloons and white blouse as undergarments, and caftan of white with red embroidered orchids. A girdle with matching motifs cinched in her waist. Her veil was edged in gold and fluttered as the breeze blew into the room. Perhaps the most enchanting thing, though, apart from her curved slippers, was the anklet of crystals and bells that now adorned her foot. Whenever she moved, music followed. She smiled at him, holding an embroidered bag in delicately hennaed hand.

Tesla was so stunned by this sight that he could barely listen to what the priestesses and acolytes were telling him. When he had finally gathered his mind enough he asked the eldest to repeat what she had said. The woman rolled her eyes at him in a gesture that clearly meant "men's minds are only on one thing." She tapped his arm with a finger. "What we desire is that this woman should stay here, become a priestess at the approval of her royal highness, Princess Tamina. RavAn is a most remarkable lady, I have felt the kindle of the goddess Ahurani within her, myself." It took Tesla a moment to realize that Wren had been given a new name. He shook his head. "No, she is most honored, but she belongs with me." He took a step back and reached out for Wren's hand. "Who says you own me?" Tesla froze a moment before angrily bursting out at her in English: "I thought you didn't understand Persian!" Wren shrugged. "I said I didn't know a lot of Persian, not that I hadn't studied it before, dimwit. Besides, after listening to a dozen young women chattering away while they painted and perfumed me gave my mind something to do other than scream at the fact that I'm stuck in ancient Persia. With you."

Tesla made a grab for her hand but she was too fast and darted away from him. "Not on your life. These women are offering me a place to stay, which you can't, and food and water, which all we have is a loaf of bread to our name and wells contaminated with camel spit." Tesla felt his temper boil over. "I am not leaving you here." Wren's expression suddenly did a one-hundred and eighty and rather than looking mad, she looked serious. "Look, this gives us a great opportunity. I can find out more about that damn dagger here than I ever could in the city. And you can get a job and do some snooping whereas I can't. And in the meantime, you won't have to worry about feeding another mouth." As much as he hated to admit it, those were wonderful reasons for leaving her in the temple. "Well, since I'm not twelve, I can rationally agree with that." Slipping the wrapped dagger out from his waistband and shirt, he held it out to her. "It will be a lot easier to pretend poverty when I'm not lugging the golden beast around with me. Keep it hidden and don't touch it. The last thing we need is for you to get stuck in another timeline." She took it from him and suddenly felt at a loss for words.

Tesla was leaving and anything might happen to him in this city and she would never know. He looked nice, too, with a plain brown robe and baggy pantaloons like hers. His new leather sandals fit him well, and a white cloak and turban made his curly black hair stand out even more. His deep chocolate eyes now looked at her with uncertainty as well. Realizing that she was the strength now, she nodded towards the door. "Get going, Sherif Ali, and don't forget to check in tomorrow." He nodded, exhibiting one of his few rather dazzling smiles. And then, he was gone, leaving Wren holding the dagger, feeling very small indeed as the white walls of the temple of Ahurani loomed around her.

Author's Other Note:

_Yes, it's sad I need another note. But I felt I should explain a few things._

_**Things to know about names in my story:**_

_Shabaka was named after a Nubian Pharoah._

_Samin means Precious in Persian._

_Aurung means Wisdom in Persian._

_RavAn means Soul, or Spirit in Persian_

_**Other Things To Know:**_

_Doctor Who is British show about a time travelling 907 year old Gallifreyan dude who travels in a spaceship that outside looks like a Police Telephone Call Box but inside is huge! I think my favorite version of him is 6 and his awesome companion, Peri. Not sure about 11 yet. And if you have no clue what I mean, that you are probably saner than I._

_That proverb is an actually a Persian saying. I don't know if it's ancient..._

_Kudos for the Dastan training scene goes to Jodhaa Akbar, the most beautiful love story ever written._

_Ahurani is an ancient Persian goddess of Rain. She was the symbol of health, healing, prosperity, and growth._

_Sherif Ali was a real life person and also a character from Lawrence of Arabia, played by Omar Sharif. He is my favorite character in that story and a most noble man._

_**How do you know all this, you might ask?**_

_History buff, comes the answer._

_That, and google._

_And I will say that two great songs have been spurring me on to write more for you: Azeem-O-Shaan Shahenshah and Jashn-E-Bahaara, also from Jodhaa Akbar._

AND I SOLEMNLY SWEAR THAT THERE WILL BE MORE ACTION COME NEXT CHAPTER.


	3. Trojan Horses vs Camel Pies

**HAMISHE**

**Rating: T**

Synopsis: _The Sands of Time survive even when others do not. Even so, it and the dagger have all but been lost to antiquity. Or have they?_

Pairings: Dastan/Tamina, and perhaps others.

Author's Note:

_Thank you all for the lovely reviews! Also, I have decided not to risk being tied to a desk O_o. Please forgive the wait, my cruddy college life takes its toll waaaay too much. So here we go…_

**At the Temple of Ahurani:**

Wren eventually gave up on following the other acolyte's prattle. Her Persian was still in infancy and though she could get the gist of what they were saying, more than one important word would be missing. The women had taken her first to a room that would be hers within the Temple's version of a convent. She had acted pleased by it, which she truly was. The bed was made with silken cushions and sheer embroidered white curtains hung from the windows were both beautiful and practical. They blocked the heat but allowed fresh air to circulate through the room, carrying with it the scent of myrrh and cinnamon, both of which were burning in a small brazier situated in the middle of the room. A small wall fountain had cool water trickling from the open mouth of a stone dove and beside it was a shelf containing perfumes and oils.

After being permitted to look over her room and given an hour to pray and rest, Wren secreted the dagger into a space behind a loose floorstone. The High Priestess, whom all the other women called "mother" then came to her, and bade her to walk in a court garden.

Mother Priestess was stunning. Her long brown hair was sprinkled with gold and silver beads and had been twisted up onto her head in the shapes of flowers. Her white robes were spotless and heavily embellished with gold and silver thread embroidery, rare jewels, and woven silk ribbons. Around her neck was a floral masterpiece of jade vines and leaves and lapis lazuli flowers. Her arms were covered in bracelets and small anklets graced her ankles with silver bells that tinkled with every step she took.

Once, for a college paper, written so long ago in the future, Wren had speculated on ancient dress. But seeing it in all the lush and extravagant glory was overwhelming. Her admiration for these people rose by each minute.

"Do you know, RavAn, why you were permitted to join our sisterhood?"

Wren concentrated on her words, slowly translating them in her mind. Folding her hands in front of her in a gesture of humble respect, she answered.

"No, kind Mother Priestess."

The woman turned her amethyst colored gaze to Wren and made her pause by resting a heavily ringed finger on the younger's shoulder.

"Your hair. Such a glorious color, it is a gift from the goddess. From the moment my women told me about you I knew you were destined to make the Temple of Ahurani great."

Wren felt her brow crinkle at the woman's words.

"Forgive me, Mother, but I am not a great person. I am foreign and poor."

Mother Priestess nodded her head, her hair moving with the breeze.

"So you are. But from all lives come greatness. You have been touched by the gods and you will find your destiny within this pagan city."

Wren almost thought she had translated that second to last word incorrectly.

"Forgive me again, but pagan? Is this not the city of your people?"

Mother turned her eyes to an elaborate six tiered fountain featuring carved sea creatures and shells. The water trickled playfully from the top bowl down into four others, which in turn emptied into the main basin. Rare Asian flowers and more spices grew alongside it. With such a beautiful sight, her sigh seemed out of place.

"No, RavAn, we are as strange here as you. This temple to Ahurani was built many hundreds of years ago when Persia originally controlled this area. But soon after, Alamut had a subtle rebellion. Advisors told the king to release Alamut to maintain peace, and so he did. There was an accord, however, that this sisterhood should remain in Alamut. We are all Persian women here, chosen from the High Temple of Ahurani in the Perian Empire to live in this blasphemous land. That is why we speak Persian, though others do not."

During her speech Wren noticed the woman's fists clenching at her sides.

"We once had a masterful following here, but since Alamut has become its own we exist with only a few hundred people scattered over this land who still attend our festivities. Most are Persian merchant's and tradesmen's wives and daughter who come."

She turned back to Wren, her eyes now burning with a fierce light.

"Non-Persians may, of course, join in, but some of our rituals are for people of the blood, only. Your servant, Tesla, before he left, told me that you were born in Persia, so nothing shall be hidden from you. May the goddess someday curse that spoiled, hennaed brat who calls herself Princess of Alamut for her destruction of our sacred water shrine near the wheat fields. And may nothing but vipers come from the mixing of her blood with that of a Prince of Persia, however non-royal he may be, he is still of Persian descent."

Wren blinked, trying not to interject how absolutely racially bigoted the priestess had just sounded. She looked down at her feet and pondered if perhaps the streets of Alamut were not safer than a Temple run by a woman scorned.

**In the Streets of Alamut:**

Tesla realized that job finding was harder than it looked in the ancient world, even with help. He knew nothing of any use to anyone, and could only be trusted with the most menial of tasks. Finally, he was able to procure a position at a Persian nobleman's house, working to muck out the camel stable. As he lifted a steaming pile with his wooden tool, he briefly wondered if there were jobs lower in the city. After an hour of gagging he decided that there weren't any.

After two hours he decided to quit cursing in Serbian and began to spread fresh straw for the beasts. After that task, he hauled water from the nearby well to the camel's stone troughs. At all times a rather pompous looking overseer watched his work, complained about it and taxes, spit, cursed, and made rude jokes. Tesla was glad that he understood two in every ten words the man said, as his Persian was mixed with something that sounded remotely akin to Egyptian.

Lunch was an odd affair, with flat breads and a thick, peppery paste being the only items available to the stable hands. A highly diluted fermented drink was offered, which Tesla accepted. He trusted it more than water that he had no opportunity to boil and which everyone used for their washing, cooking, and watering of animals. But after the seventh sip he realized it was quite a mistake to assume anything and hauled off to the nearest refuse area. He stayed there until his stomach had ceased to cramp and all food and drink had been purged. Upon returning to the main stable courtyard he found all the other workers laughing at him and his weak stomach. One kindly servant boy did give him a piece of the bread minus the sauce to chew on and a cup of fresh goat's milk, however.

The foreman slapped him on his back and grinned, showing off his brown teeth. "Look at it this way, the sauce and drink did you a favor." Tesla batted the man's hand away with disdain. "How is your stomach dying a favor?" The Egyptian leaned in and winked at him. "Because now you won't lose your guts when you clean the poultry yard!" All the other men howled at him, and before Tesla knew quite what was happening, he found himself in an enclosed area that reeked of bird dropping and rancid food. One goose ran by and dropped on his sandaled foot. Tesla looked up at the sky in exasperation. "Anything else? How about lightening hitting me? Or perhaps a tornado!" Another goose ran by and bit his ankle just as a dark drop of rain landed in front Tesla. Within minutes a deluge had erupted. Now covered in bird muck infused mud, Tesla picked up his shovel. "Thank you, that was all I needed."

**At the Palace of Alamut:**

Dastan knelt in the training courtyard, his sword lying beside him. The heat was growing with the sun, yet he didn't feel the need to move. There was no point to moving. Due to her importance, he only saw his wife for the evening meal and again when they retired for the night. Although a Prince of Persia, his importance to Alamut was only one of marriage and the convenience it brought. He gazed now at the sharp blade, wondering if perhaps that was the only area where his usefulness lay. He had saved the world, but no-one knew of his heroic deeds. He grimaced. Heroic was too much. Blessed with reflexes and a large amount of luck were more likely true. So deep in his thoughts was Dastan that he didn't even notice Shabaka approach. The eunuch shook his head at the sight of the Prince's despondency. He knew that beyond Dastan's warrior façade was a man of incredible kindness and strength of character, but he also knew that Tamina didn't see it. Shabaka continued to stand there, his arms folded across his chest, while Dastan continued to ponder his life's ambitions and losses.

**In The High Temple of Alamut:**

Tamina lay prostrate upon the polished floor, her hennaed hands outstretched and her forehead touching the steps that led up to the dagger's chamber. Try as she might, however, she found her thoughts drifting back to Dastan and his wearied and sorrow filled eyes. She knew the dangers of his eyes, for on occasion she had met their gaze and found herself captivated. Her mind knew her marriage was political, but her heart waivered at moments such as those. Tamina lifted her head to look up at the lattice-stone work that wrapped around the dagger. Light poured from the holes. Gritting her teeth and banishing Dastan from her mind she reached out in her thoughts to the chamber. A warm, glowing light filled her and she could see the stand. Empty. Abruptly she stood and pushed her heavily embroidered white hood back, her crystal adorned black hair swaying as she did so. Several other Guardians stepped forward, their faces alarmed. "The dagger has been stolen. Alert all of our sects! A thorough search of Alamut must begin immediately!"

**In the Princess's Sleeping Chamber:**

The ornate doors opened with such force that their meeting the wall echoed viciously in the room. Dastan had been sitting upon the bed, reading a scroll containing a Persian story. He looked up in time to see four Guardians enter the room behind Tamina, who made directly for him. "Where is it?" Dastan blinked, thought a moment, and held the scroll out to her. "I had asked if I could use the archives…" Tamina gave the scroll a withering glance. "Not that, Dastan, the dagger. You know far more about it than you ever let on and I believe you have the ability to take it again. Now where did you put it?" Dastan laid the scroll gently on the bed before standing up, directly into her personal space. "I hate that blasted dagger and if you think I would steal it, you clearly have no idea what kind of a person I really am. I stole it once and gave it back, why in the names of the accursed Egyptians deities would I do it again?" Tamina took a handful of his red tunic in her hands and pulled him closer. "Because it would be so like a Prince of Persia to steal a treasure of Alamut and send it back to his King." Dastan was suddenly aware that this was the closest he had been to his wife in the month they had been married. He could feel her body's warmth and her hair brushing against his shoulder. Everything concerning the dagger nearly left his mind as the urge to touch her skin and taste her lips came to the forefront.

But looking at her fuming eyes brought him back. Shoving aside her hands brusquely, Dastan raised his voice and imposed his height on her. "Princess, I would never be as simple-minded as to send a time-altering dagger to Persia. I had enough trouble with one corrupt uncle, can you imagine what a whole corrupt nation would do with it?" Dastan suddenly realized that although his answer was important, he had also given away part of his involvement with the Sands of Time. Tamina's eyes widened in shock for a moment as his words sank in. "You used it?" Dastan nodded and hadn't enough time to move before Tamina's hand slapped his face with force. His temper rose and he swiftly grabbed both of her wrists, holding them tight between them. "Of course I used it! My uncle was plotting to go back in time and allow a lion to murder my father. Tus and Garsiv would never have been born and I would still be a street rat. You would probably be a captive wife to my uncle and the dagger would have been in his possession. As it is, I gave up so much to return time to its proper route, much more than an arrogant, pampered, selfish princess could ever understand that I'm sorry I married you in the first place." He released her hands, picked up the scroll, and stormed through the doors. Tamina felt heat creep up onto her face as she turned to the other Guardians. They stared at her in disbelief. "You will forget everything you just heard or you will be banished to as far away and nasty a desert as I can find, understand?" Four heads nodded in unison.

**A Week Later, At The Temple:**

Wren waited by the crumbling portion of the temple wall. A smaller following and fewer monetary contributions in the area had forced the temple forego some luxuries. The High Temple in Persia sent money so sporadically that it could never be depended upon. One way they saved money now was in the repairs of the brickwork. Wren had discovered one loose brick in the outer wall and now used it to communicate with Tesla. Because she was now an acolyte, cloistered in an area meant only for virgins where no man could enter and speak to her. This small hole was the only way she could communicate with the outside world.

"Psssttt?"

Wren looked through the hole and saw Tesla's brown eyes looking back at her.

"What's going on? It sounds like an entire army is marching through Alamut and no-one in the temple will answer my questions."

Tesla turned at a small noise, only to discover a puppy was playing with his sandal straps. He gently shook the little beast off and watched as it scampered away.

"That's because there is an army marching through Alamut. Or rather, some kind of sacred guard thing. They're looking for something, they even came and searched the house and stables of my employer. Any new developments with you?"

Wren shook her head.

"I think that the Mother Priestess is plotting something, but she doesn't trust newbies. As it is, I am dying of boredom in here…"

Tesla's mouth pursed in a clearly unsympathetic look.

"Would you like to swap with me and clean out the steaming pies left behind by camels?"

Wren held her hands in front of her in a gesture of "no".

"I think I'll leave that job to you. Did you find anything about the dagger?"

Tesla banged his head against the wall.

"No! Nobody in this whole stinking city seems to know what I mean. And I've talked to a lot of folks, mostly traders. They say such a dagger does not exist but in legend."

Wren raised an eyebrow at him.

"Legend?"

Now it was Tesla's turn to nod.

"Something about some damn dagger cursed by the gods. Doesn't give any specifics or descriptions or anything that is of any help to any human with a brain."

Footsteps began to approach from within the walls.

"See you the same time next week. Keep trying."

Wren slammed the brick back into place, picked up her gown, and raced to the other garden, breathing a sigh of relief that she hadn't been caught. Outside the thick walls Tesla headed back into the throng of people.

Author's Other Note:

_**Things to know about names in my story:**_

_Shabaka was named after a Nubian Pharoah._

_Samin means Precious in Persian._

_Aurung means Wisdom in Persian._

_RavAn means Soul, or Spirit in Persian_

_**Other Things To Know:**_

_Ahurani is an ancient Persian goddess of Rain. She was the symbol of health, healing, prosperity, and growth._


End file.
